Free The Chronicles of Lumineia: Book 02 - The Gathering by Ben Hale Page B

him with several
arrows, but it didn’t seem to affect him. It is my belief that he is, in a
literal sense, a combination of ailments, and no conventional weapon can hurt a
disease.”
    Braon took a
moment to mull that over and chewed on some meat. Sirfalas allowed his
companion to eat in silence, waiting patiently as he worked his way through
some bread. When Braon had considered several ideas he bobbed his head. “Who is
the last one?”
    The historian
cleared his throat to answer and said, “The last being created by Draeken is Famine.
Crops withered and food spoiled if he came too close. Just like Plague, his
ability is also controlled by distance. Time seemed to be a factor as well. For
instance, soldiers rations wouldn’t spoil overnight, it took days for the food
to go rancid, unless he was physically closer, in which case the men felt
themselves get hungry, and then weaker, before they perished. Some bodies were
found in the fetal position, holding their stomachs as if they died in agony.”
He shuddered. “The drawings show them so skinny they looked like a skeleton
inside of a sack of skin.”
    “Did anyone
get close and not die? Did anyone hurt him?” Braon asked. He did his best to
keep the creeping desperation from appearing in his voice.
    “I do have a
single story of a survivor, although I doubt its word.” Getting up he moved
back to the shelf and perused the stacks of scrolls until he found the one he
wanted. “Ah, this is it.” Returning to his seat he gingerly unrolled the stiff
material and scanned the writing. “It is a story of an unnamed blacksmith in a
town where Famine passed through. Everyone in the village wasted away and died,
but this man did not.”
    He paused and
mumbled to himself for a moment before he came to what he was looking for.
“Let’s see . . . that’s right, I didn’t remember.” Looking at Braon he pointed
at the parchment. “The author said the man was extremely overweight, and
managed to get to a horse. When Famine came after him he threw his hammer at
the being. It struck him on the arm, and the fiend appeared hurt and backed
away, allowing the blacksmith time to escape.” Sirfalas chuckled and took a
swallow of juice. “The report indicates that both the horse and the rider were
much skinnier after that.”
    “Hmm,” Braon
mused aloud. “So perhaps he can be hurt, but no one can get close. Interesting.”
He stared off into space while he finished the meal, his mind reviewing
possible strategies against all he’d learned.
    Suddenly aware
of his impolite attitude he blinked and looked at the kind historian. “Thank
you for all you have shared with me today. I have learned much, and will probably
return soon.”
    Sirfalas
laughed, a soft wheezing sound, and smiled. “I researched extensively prior to
your arrival. I shall now devote myself to further study so we have more to
discuss.”
    Braon smiled
in return and allowed his gratitude to show on his face. “Thank you again.” He
stood and inclined his head, sweeping his hand to invite the historian to go
first. As he followed him through the maze of records, he continued to examine the
different possibilities. Hardly noticing the departing wave of Sirfalas, he
exited the archives and headed towards the House of Runya.
    Slipping
through the twilight city he arrived at his destination and hurried inside. Pausing
to leave a note for Lariel to request the dining hall as his strategic command,
he returned to his room and sat on a tree bench that grew out of the balcony.
Pondering, he didn’t see the sun set or the stars begin to twinkle in the sky.
    Deep in his
mind he ran through the battle that was coming. Attack, defend, counter-attack.
Time and again he set the pieces and ran the battle until he’d found the best
placement for his troops—for now. A lot would depend on which races came, and
how well he was able to integrate them into his army.
    Once again he
wished for a second in command. With a sigh